


Down I Go

by Hyoushin



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boys Kissing, Caring Harvey, Light Angst, M/M, POV Harvey, Series Spoilers, Spoilers, everywhere, light slash, semi-au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 00:38:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7292539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyoushin/pseuds/Hyoushin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harvey Specter went back to the starting point. A first impression.</p><p>(Bad) first impressions could last a lifetime, indeed. As far as that was concerned, Harvey remembered thinking once <em>blond kid managed to hit a home run without a bat.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Down I Go

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm new in this fandom.
> 
> ! --------> I don't know how to explain what I did here but there are **spoilers** of the entire series. I chose the moments that I liked the most and put them together. So, this fic may be a calorie free selective retelling of the canon...I say calorie free cause there's no Rachel/Mike here.  
>  Pretend that doesn't exist. And put on your marvey goggles please. Thank you.
> 
> :|  
> I tried.

 

 

**1.**

Harvey Specter went back to the starting point. A first impression.

(Bad) first impressions could last a lifetime, indeed. As far as that was concerned, Harvey remembered thinking once _blond kid_ _managed to hit a home run without a bat._ Impossible, anyone might say, but Harvey would disagree since it was unlikely he would witness an introduction much more memorable than _that one_.

Going down memory lane revealed this: the first round began the second he permitted the blond kid to make out a case for himself.

 _Mike Ross_ entered the scene, as the next interviewee, displaying reddened cheeks and ruffled hair. He ignored neither the ill-fitting suit highlighting his thinness, nor the hand carrying a suitcase that vomited an unsavory truth at his feet.

 _Kid must be in a fucked up place_ , the observation infiltrated Harvey's mind upon seeing the spillage of drugs on the floor. But after spending a half hour sparring with Mike Ross, the rational, analytical side of his mind which made the right call whenever it was needed the most, was quiet for the first time in his life— _that_ was terrifying. How was he supposed to make a decision like this? There was no degree. It shouldn't be this hard. But a dropout got one up on him. A wayward dropout hailing from nowhere land.

He had been vexed and frustrated—a dangerous combination—by the monotony of the task, the insipidity of the applicants, the possibility of never finding what he was looking for, because if he had been truly looking for someone like himself and found them, he would have killed the clone on the spot. The world had enough with one Harvey Specter.

He found nothing that day; something especial found _him_ instead. Its blinding brilliance forcing Harvey Specter, for several milliseconds, into speechless awe. What was that kid made of? That ridiculous mind of his, his wit, his boldness, his true nature fighting for a chance at being someone other than what he was—to allow all of that to remain hidden behind a curtain of wrong choices and needs was the real crime, wasn't it?

_Justifications_

_Well, what do you want me to say? I'm impressed_

A boy lined with cobalt, silver, and gold, sat in a chair, behind a barrier of mahogany, with an ocean of knowledge resting on his tongue. The strength defining that sight fabricated an imagined future, whose realization depended on one man's verdict.

His inner jury was taking its time deliberating.

Would it be worth it?

A chance. It was insane. What he was considering.

He paused the video playing inside his head, this frame in particular was indelible: earnestness brought out a pristine blue in his eyes mixed with a fragility he had never seen before and suddenly, the room felt small, the air ran out, for those eyes were looking into him, daring him to act, challenging him to do something unthinkable.

Harvey Specter had never been one to back down. If he was going to do this, then he would do it as was his wont, on the forefront with his arsenal at the ready.

And so, a life-changing decision was made.

 

**2.**

 

A man watched a boy grow.

If this man was feeling restless, his feet would lead him towards the boy in his care. At times, he would conceal half or most of his frame to catch a glimpse of the boy's everyday. Mike Ross had not known how to do many of the things he was supposed to already know. He had been stumbling and falling, but picking himself up afterwards despite the bruises, scratches, and scars that had riddled each of his attempts.

He was waking up, though, he was strengthening, he was creating his own army, shaping up his armor, sharpening his sword, readying himself for potential battles. Harvey was already expecting the changes in the boy's character that would come soon.

On almost all the desks were fingers tapping keys, papers marked with yellow lines, cans of energizing drinks, cups containing caffeine, and piles of files sprouting up to a dismaying height. Some were idle, reclining on their chairs, skin pale with bags below bloodshot eyes. Others were standing up, fidgeting and frowning at a document, or asking the opinion of a fellow associate. A few were not present, probably out doing an errand for a partner, or away for the moment to get their umpteenth dose of coffee.

There was one person, however, out of all of them, who was focused, pushing physical and mental limits, eyes moving across the computer screen, absorbing information, dissecting it, and owning it. Making, with the help of his ability, what was impossible a reality at an outrageous speed. This growing boy was turning into the finest, fastest car in the competition. And a man like Harvey Specter only cared to acquire the best of everything.

 

**3.**

 

Days came in which their beliefs clashed. The disparity between their characters provoking unpremeditated attacks. It could have been Harvey's fault or Mike's. It was fortunate, then, for both of them that an emotional intermediary called Donna Paulsen would interfere for the better. Because, usually, these boys couldn't see what was in front of them.

_You care about me._

Eventually, those two would come around and everything would turn out all right.

But the boy, Mike Ross, was growing out of his impressionable phase. He was filling out the suit he had been tailoring for himself. Co-workers, partners, clients, the world was starting to recognize him for what he had been turning into under the unconventional guidance of his mentor. In between cases, he brewed confidence and autonomy. Therefore, Harvey swallowed his startlement at his associate's attitude every time he confronted him with agitated counterarguments.

He knew the changes were coming, but not like this, and not so fast. To admit that someone else could be right was hard, and to trust in another's judgment was something even harder for him to do. He was used to do his job alone. He was unused to have the reasonings backing his actions questioned. Yet, the person bold enough to do that and more was before him. Mike now knew how to project and wield that same gravity which had tempted him, and then had persuaded him, to break the law.

Mike Ross was an assortment of things undefinable but genuine. Right there lied the difference between everyone else and him. He made Harvey believe—believe that there was more to law than victory and power by handling case after case with a fresh perspective or creative solution, with a new approach or daring move. Harvey had assumed he was done with learning. Mike Ross kept continually proving that assumption wrong.

On some nights, when alone in his office, while gazing at the blinking lights of a city he considered his playground, with the aftertaste of liquor in his mouth, a rare feeling crept up to the surface.

Admiration.

 

**4.**

 

_You come to me. You tell me everything._

Three years now. Time was sweeping by.

_Loyalty._

Even though he appeared on time, there was a surveillance camera in a corner of an interrogation room, which he smashed with a chair in an outburst of rage.

_You point them at me._

After forgiving and giving second chances, after reestablishing a connection he fooled himself into believing he didn't miss, he said words he never thought he would say with such vehemence. He would not take them back. They were out there, and he meant them. The notion of Mike Ross behind bars was absurd, inconceivable. Because Mike had somewhere to belong. He had a place in a prestigious firm. He had a place beside one of the best lawyers in the city. An irrational urge to safeguard this boy (who had already grown into a man) nearly overwhelmed Harvey Specter. Identifying what it was tempered, if a little bit, the anger he directed at Mike.

_You point them at me._

Mike refused to listen.

When they were enjoying an illusionary freedom, not worrying about the consequences mining the future was pointless. Mike wanted to leave. Meanwhile, Harvey had come to heavily rely on someone who was not only an associate and a partner but a dear friend too. The realization stabbed him in the gut.

Was there any time to do the things he should have done but had been scared of doing before?

No, not anymore.

But he could still try to take him out to lunch or dinner, have one or two drinks over easy conversations, pay the bill. He could have encounters that would be completely neutral and amiable if it wasn't for _an_ _ongoing_ _case_ that was tying a noose around their throats. Mike was brilliant as always, trying to fulfill sky-high expectations with suits embracing his form appropriately, even though they still seemed wrong on him somehow.

Had Harvey a right to remark on that? No, not anymore.

For they were standing on opposite sides of the ring.

**5.**

 

Harvey desired to mend this man's life once and for all instead of offering alternatives which had a placebo-like taste.

_You lasted fifteen rounds._

_I wouldn't have let you go._

It was the truth. Sidwell's obstinacy lost him more than he could ever imagine—an ally if not a friend or an asset if not an ally. Mike Ross could do anything. Give him raw materials, directions, and a purpose and he could be capable of building a kingdom for you. He was one of a kind. Although, Harvey could understand why a man like him had let pride and resentment blind him to what there could be past a mistake. He had been there as well.

At length, a series of circumstances pried open a familiar door for Mike Ross, and he stepped in, looking almost like a prodigal son returning to the home he had left behind.

_You can at least pretend you're not that happy._

_I shouldn't have let him leave in the first place._

Harvey was determined; Mike Ross, the lawyer, _belonged_ here. So, Harvey woke up early, feeling rested after having a good night's sleep. He stepped out of his home, in an stunning suit, to meet a world that didn't look as if it was withering from the inside out any longer.

_Today's Mike Ross' first day at work._

Yes, it was. Harvey hoped he could have back what he had been missing dearly. During the following months, he would let the appreciation he had disguised, the estimation he had locked, and the fondness he had restrained, run to wherever they wished to be. The astonishment coming from those blue eyes made it worth it. Mike shouldn't shy away from being the _damn good lawyer_ he had become. Harvey needed to voice it so Mike could believe it.

_He's back with us 'cause he's amazing_

_He's a better man than I will ever be  
_

 

**6.**

**  
** A letter in his hands detailed his intention to resign. It was somewhat laughable. But it was a real, inescapable decision. Harvey sighed. It was a sound laden with exhaustion. He had been finally backed into a corner. And when Mike gave him a letter just like the one he had written earlier, he thought _this is getting ridiculous._ It felt a lot like losing.

Mike extended a hand, expecting Harvey to shake it and part like indifferent business partners. That was even more ridiculous, which was why Harvey rejected the hand suspended in the air, and spread his arms to welcome him in. Mike was surprised, but accepted the invitation with a smile. They stayed there, for one long peaceful moment, sharing one another's warmth in an office that had enclosed agreements and disagreements, discussions and banter, vulnerability and affection. Maybe, there was no other ending this affair could have. At least no one would get hurt, and for both of them, that was what mattered most.

However, Life had to have the final word. For Harvey found that this was only the beginning of the worst kind of ending—when he was told Mike was arrested for a crime they were both guilty of.

 

*****

 

_I am bullshit_

From the back seat, Harvey listened to a confession that had been gathering dust for too long. His eyes recorded a brave man at the wheel, tearing a deception apart before a set of judicial eyes. Here Mike was, doing what he thought was right, because that was what he would rather do. Remorse coated every bit of his statement. Persuasive honesty lay upon his mannerisms. A plea for understanding settled in his gaze.

Was he conscious of what he was accomplishing?

_I wasted my gift_

He turned a truth into a dagger he was prepared to hold against his bare heart.

Harvey couldn't stop a stealthy sense of pride from taking over him. In his mind, the image of Mike Ross, standing in a courtroom, was placed into a glass case to remain amid jazz and blues and baseball balls.

_I am a lawyer, and always will be_

The suit he decided to wear today fitted him perfectly.

 

*****

 

_Not guilty_

Loyalty drove them to their respective places. One of them was leaving, the other was staying. The result of a bad gamble.

Anger. Harvey could do that. It was easy. It was a known face. It was easier to let anger turn to fury and let it dictate his next movement. An arm threw an empty glass towards a lamp; the young man he once had been, had prized above all things, the accuracy with which the target was hit. The noise of glass shattering made Mike pause; he turned around in shock. It seemed Harvey succeeded in something, since he failed to protect a man whose life he broke. It was the kind of powerlessness he hadn't been wanting to be acquainted with.

Over his head, noxious ghosts were whispering _failure._

Uttering words that would inflame his friend was also easy. They had similar dispositions. The blows he deserved, the blood in his mouth, the pain in his back, the firestorm he faced, very few things had a lasting effect, and yet this—this his body would not forget. It wasn't enough, though, for the weight of what Mike had to do was crushing all that was intangible.

Harvey heard deafening sobs, saw tears of shame and defeat. He did nothing about it. Nothing could alleviate the pain of a man who had to make an unnecessary sacrifice.

_Two years_

 

*****

 

_Watch your back_

The way Mike squared his shoulders roused him. He looked resolute. It was over. Time to go. Before Mike could march away, Harvey seized his arm, spun him around, pushed his chin up with a gentle hand, and touched his lips with his; a brief touch that shouted what simmered within an indissoluble attachment. Mike's wondrous brain processed its meaning, and then, gradually, absorbed it.

“I guess this is the end?” Harvey muttered.

Mike shrugged. “It doesn't have to be.”

Harvey took the hope beneath that sentence to transform it into something resembling redemption. “Then I'll be waiting.”

  
*****

Down he went, so Harvey Specter crawled back to the starting point. A first impression.  
  
_To go down all over again._

 


End file.
